Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 11/16/20

I’m an orphan mother

Tears roll down my cheeks
when I hear the name, Bonfire:
my first-born, given away to an orphanage.
dark-skinned with kohl-rimmed eyes
my handsome little baby
has grown up and now wields a pistol
against his abandonment

I remember when, with clammy hands
His tiny feet would run
and play catch-and-throw
in iambic as his tongue rolled off
monosyllabic words.

Mama’s little Picasso
painted couches with scribbles
blue ovals with colour at the fringe
my baby’s fruit drawings
looked so chic
I still have them on the fridge
To this day

I remember when
when my parents asked me
to give him up for adoption.
Me, a girl who drew vaginas inside hearts
in a biology class, as a joke, sniggering
and shared pasta with her ex-boyfriend
whom my parents both despised

all during my pregnancy
my mother said to me
I didn’t deserve to knit
Socks for my baby
Because I wasn’t mature enough

So finally, I gave up the will
To be a mother
And just pushed my baby out
They let me keep him for a while
Enough, to let me get attached
Then they took him off to be judged
By the world, all on his own

my baby got accepted
at seven orphanages
a day of both sadness and pride for me
They called him a fine little piece.
Bonfire,
my first poem,
my only baby!

Β©2020 Fizza Abbas All rights reserved.

Fizza Abbas is a Freelance Content Writer based in Karachi, Pakistan. She is fond of poetry and music. Her works have been published on quite a few platforms including Poetry Village and Poetry Pacific.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s